


Osmosis

by rockethop



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24419566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockethop/pseuds/rockethop
Summary: When Leslie Knope was a little girl, her best friend told her that if she slept with her textbook under her pillow the night before a test, she would never forget the information because it would seep through the book’s binding and into her brain. 'Studying by osmosis', she’d called it. Skeptical - but not one to dismiss such a simple solution to her academic troubles - Leslie shoved her sixth-grade math book under her pillow and eagerly awaited dreams of converting improper fractions and the order of operations.Leslie comes to terms with her break up from Ben. Set at the end of 4x01.
Relationships: Leslie Knope/Ben Wyatt
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25





	Osmosis

When Leslie Knope was a little girl, her best friend told her that if she slept with her textbook under her pillow the night before a test, she would never forget the information because it would seep through the book’s binding and into her brain. _Studying by osmosis,_ she’d called it. Skeptical - but not one to dismiss such a simple solution to her academic troubles - Leslie shoved her sixth-grade math book under her pillow and eagerly awaited dreams of converting improper fractions and the order of operations.

Leslie aced the test. She had even answered the two bonus questions correctly despite their trickiness, and Leslie proudly handed the exam paper to her mother to display on the front of their refrigerator.

The tactic became a staple in Leslie’s life, being implemented when she anticipated a particularly difficult day ahead of her, such as the nights before her debate club conferences in high school where she’d slip a sheet of hastily-written talking points under her head. Or that time in college when she couldn’t decide which Spice Girls album to play at a party. The obvious choice upon awakening was _Spice_ despite Leslie’s deep appreciation for _Spiceworld._

She’d used it before her interview with Ron for the Parks department position and had promptly left City Hall with a newfound air of confidence - and exasperation because Swanson had diametrically opposed every answer she had provided to his questions - that she hadn’t realized there was a sticky binder tab stuck in the back of her hair until she’d ran her fingers through it after the meeting.

Of course, it’d also made an appearance through her color-coded idea binders during the agonizing three months that the state auditors seized control of Pawnee to save the town from financial ruin. Leslie would, likewise, conceptualize the idea of the Harvest Festival by sleeping with her voice recorder under her pillow in hopes that she would mumble something ingenious in her sleep.

The nights leading up to the Harvest Festival had been tumultuous and Leslie had grown so anxious over the prospect of forgetting to submit the permits to the proper departments or the off-chance that Li’l Sebastian would go missing that she slept with the _Leslie Knope Project Preparedness Super System_ under her head until the final morning of the event.

Truthfully, she hadn’t thought much of her habit until she’d begun secretly dating Ben.

“Why do you sleep with stuff under your pillow?” He’d queried after his third time staying over.

She pursed her lips and searched his face for disapproval, finding none.

“It helps me to remember things.” She replied.

He’d found the method charming and endearing but, in typical Ben fashion, he didn’t quite understand it. He’d spent a good deal of time attempting to convince her of her competence, building her self-efficacy through simple positive affirmation exercises and by sneaking her copies of the municipal government employee performance reviews from her personal file. It’d come as no surprise to him that she’d received only exemplary remarks, so it had deeply disturbed Ben to learn of the lingering doubts seeded in her mind by one Mark Brendanawicz.

It was these sessions with Ben that had allowed Leslie to confidently undertake - and complete - her first project without her practice of sleep-osmosis.

But Elizabeth and William had approached her about running for City Council and Ben had graciously stepped aside so she could pursue her childhood dreams.

And now Leslie Knope paced in her living room - naked save for one of Ben’s left-behind REM shirts that was too big on her and fell to her mid-thighs - shoving Skittles into her mouth, chewing and swallowing faster than she could comprehend what was happening. The box that Ben had given her sat open on her coffee table, mocking her - tempting her to call off the campaign - to text Ann again in search of a loophole.

Leslie did none of these things.

Instead, she lifted the box from the table and thumbed it fastidiously. Her thumb trailed the edges and her nail scraped faintly against the corner then returned to brush against the mylar-coated button.

It was meant to be a symbol of support but it felt increasingly like a consolation prize.

Wistfully, she closed the box and climbed the stairs towards her bedroom. In true Leslie Knope fashion, the room was in varying states of disarray. Her underwear drawer was ajar, a stack of binders sat upon the armchair next to her full-body mirror, and laundry - ranging from clean to dirty and folded to wrinkled - littered her carpeted floor. She staggered over to the made bed. The only source of order in her room had, naturally, been the result of the assistant city manager.

She’d finally unraveled as her head hit the pillow on the right side - his side - and the tears rolled readily and silently from her eyes as she pushed the rectangular object to rest underneath her. Shakily, she released the breath she’d been unaware that she had been holding and closed her eyes.

So there she lay - in his shirt, in his spot - with the box jabbing uncomfortably into her neck.

Because she was terrified of forgetting Benjamin Wyatt.


End file.
